Should Insanity Find Me
by Rennwolf
Summary: Newt begs for release from the disease. Thomas gives in and pulls the trigger. So, why does Newt awake to find himself in a strange dark and empty room with a pounding migraine and clear mind? Rated T for future violence. ON HIATUS!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer for the whole story! I do not own these characters! They are all James Dashner's!**

Chapter 1

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"Please, Tommy. Please."

 _Bang!_

Everything _hurt._

My brain felt like it had been hit with a hammer and then sprayed with acid. My skin felt as though it had been scraped away by a razor blade. Every sound that reached my ears bounced around my skull like a frantic rhino trying to escape an enclosed area.

The pain was too much and I passed out.

* * *

The Flare

 _The Flare is a disease that resides in the frontal cortex of the brain, right behind the eyes. First it builds it up, showing few outward signs of the sickness. But, as it reaches full size it stops building up and begins to eat away at the brain. It dissolves the cells until there is nothing left of that person. They are then purely_ _ **Crank**_ _._

 _Because the flare itself is practically invisible, surgery is not possible. The odd thing about the flare is that it is quite simple to cure. It goes out the same way it comes in. Heat. The Flare happens to be highly susceptible to heat._

 _When Thomas shot Newt he closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. He had held the gun to Newts forehead, but, because Newt had tackled him to the ground and he was at an odd angle the bullet never touched his brain. Though, it did split the top of his skull. The heat from the ignited gunpowder forced the disease from his brain. This also prevented the Flare from returning._

 _Thomas, however, did not know this. Neither did Newt. He awoke, dreading his existence. Still unaware that his friend had just accidentally cured him of the seemingly incurable disease._

* * *

When I woke up my head still felt like it had been blown up, but to a much lesser degree. My mind was clearer as well, almost like a cloud had been lifted. Or forcibly removed.

I attempted to sit up but found it to be impossibly painful, so I just laid there, motionless. Why was I not dead? Tommy pulled the trigger, didn't he? He must have, I mean, why else would my entire being hurt?

Wait, where am I anyways?

I opened my eyes and found myself in darkness, but I think there might have been a ceiling above me. I felt around the floor for clues without moving my head. It was cold and cracked. It felt like tile or stone. I guess I was in a room somewhere. But how did I get here? Did someone move me? Was someone else in here? No. I don't think so.

A new aching started in my skull and I instinctively reached up to touch the spot where the pain started. I gently ghosted my fingers over my forehead. There was some kind of cloth there. A bandage?

"Ugg…" More pain came and I put my hand back by my side. My fingers grazed the edge of something. I reached out for it and pulled it towards my face. It was a syringe. Against better judgement I shook it around and saw movement inside of it. It was still too dark to make out what exactly it was so I put it back on the ground.

Again my fingers touched something foreign. The surface was smooth and dry. It made a soft scratching sound as my fingers glided over it. I felt around until I found the edge and held it again up to my face so that I could see it. It was a manila folder. I couldn't make out the words on the front but I could see the black against the lighter color.

I put it back on the floor. The efforts I had made left me exhausted. I shut my eyes and waited for the dark thoughts to enter my mind like they usually do. I waited for the unreasonable and insane ideas to guide me against my will to do something I would never even imagine. I was left waiting. No thoughts came to me at all. The only thing I thought of was the fear of doing something against my will again. Where was it? Where was the Flare's influence? Was it… gone? No. Wishful thinking never gets you anywhere. Maybe it was just subdued for the time being. Maybe it will come less often but more powerful.

Am I going to die a Crank?

My body involuntarily shivered at the thought. My thoughts never changed from the fearful panic I was feeling. No insane calm came over me like it always does before the thoughts come. The insanity never came. I waited for so long that the exhaustion finally took over and I fell into a restless sleep.

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 **Reviews Please!**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I woke up once again. I was still alive.

The pain was still present, though. I didn't know if it would ever go away. It seem never ending. Luckily it had subsided slightly. I was now able to sit up with ease. I have no idea how long I slept but I know that I hadn't eaten for a while. My stomach was hollow. I could feel it gnawing away at whatever meat it found on my bones. Not only that, but I was parched. My tongue was dry. My insides begged for the essentials of life and I needed to give it to them.

I needed food and water and I needed it now.

This force surpassed the migraine behind my eyes and had me crawling around on the floor. Small chance I would find anything but I looked anyways. In the darkness I could make out few things. Of those few things there were walls, a ceiling, and a door. A weak and pale light leaked out from underneath the door.

I sat back on my heels as I contemplated opening the door and searching for food. Before I reached a decision I remembered the folder and syringe. I crawled back to where I had left the items and grouped around until I found them. I tried to stand but my head began spinning and I had to sit before I fell over.

I gave myself a second to recover before I crawled to the door. I reached for the brass knob and found it locked. I reached a bit above it and found the dead bolt. I almost turned it to open the door but thought better of it. Who knew how many cranks were behind this door? And who knew how far gone they were? If they still had pieces of their sanity then I might be able to befriend them as a fellow crank, but if they were pure crank… I need a weapon. And a way to stand and run without collapsing.

There was nothing other than broken tile in this room. Not much of a weapon. I had no clue what to use. What was wrong with me? Usually by this time I had all kinds of horrible inhumane ideas on how to kill. But nothing was coming to me. I had the syringe. I could stab them if they came at me. What was in it anyways? It was next to the folder. Maybe it would say.

Careful not to make too much noise I sprawled out on my stomach and placed the folder on the ground in front of the door. The light, faint as it was, gave just enough visibility to be able to read the words on the front page. It looked like it had been hastily written in a thick black marker.

 _The Glue_

That was all to be read on the front. I opened it and found a loose sheet of paper inside.

 _Thank you for the information you have provided WICKED. It may prove useful in the future. I would much rather have liked to have opened your skull and see how your brain reacted to the gun shot, but your mother disagreed. Said it was no use trying when we had higher priorities. However, it was a lost cause I believed, to provide a 'Crank' what you have received. Your mother has paid for the Morphine in the syringe. Use it for pain by injecting it in your vein._

 _-Chancellor Ava Paige_

WICKED saved me? _WICKED_. Of course they would save me only when I begged for death. They had found a way. Not only that, but my mother is with them. Working with them. I wonder what she is like. I wonder how hard it was for her to watch me in the maze. Watch as I jumped off that bloody vined wall and tried to kill myself. She probably didn't care. I was just the bloody _Glue_ anyways.

Did she protest when they put me in the maze? Or did she volunteer me for it? Why did I care?

My thoughts were clear. My mind was with me. I realize now that the Crank that was once a part of me was gone. I know this because no matter how much I think about the people that I despise, I can't begin to think of murdering them. The insanity had subsided.

I folded the paper up into a square and shoved it into my pants pocket. I don't know what I'm going to do about this, I won't let it just slide off my shoulders though. I looked down to the syringe.

 _I guess I'll use it now so that I can run._

I injected it into my vein. The relief was immediate. So was the slight drowsiness. I blinked a second and reached up to the dead bolt. I flipped it and opened the door.

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 **Okay you guys, its been a while since I've read the Death Cure and I don't have a copy. I'm working on getting one so bear with me through the plot holes. Anyways, Review if you have anything to say! Please!**


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